Claudio’s homeboys’ eyes bugged out when all of us came back together. Gerri was off to the side, but came back near me.
Tia went on, “You’ve been using my charge cards to rent your hotel rooms and fly your women out here?”
I said, “I live out here, Tia.”
“No wonder he was breaking his neck to get out here and get the ball rolling. Now I know why you wanted me to wait before I came out here.”
Then all of a sudden, I don’t know why I didn’t see it from the get-go, but the name of his company made sense. TNT. I had believed him when he said it meant TNT like dynamite, because he was blowing up. It meant Tia and Tillman. Or Tillman and Tia. What-the-fuck-ever, that’s what it had to mean.
Tia stayed close to her girlfriend. I guess she remembered the pain from that middle of the night ass whooping I put on her in New York. Her girlfriend backed away; she wanted no part of this crap. I wasn’t about to do anything, not to her. Sometimes it was nice to have a wicked reputation.
My stomach was knotting, face feeling hot, muscles twitching in my jaw. The room was shrinking, my vision blurring. I was Mother Nature: unpredictable and uncontrollable.
Claudio said, “Tia, sit down and shut up. Chill out.”
Gerri jumped in, “Sister-girlfriend, I don’t know who you are, and I know this ain’t my cup of water to be drinking, but you’re going to let this bald-headed fool disrespect you like that?”
He faced Gerri like an animal trapped. “Hey, bitch, nobody’s talking to you.”
My hand came out of my purse; the stun gun gripped in my fist. I was going to fire his butt up. Had it in my hand, finger on the trigger, and I froze. Took short breaths through my wide-open mouth and told myself that he wasn’t worth it. I was worth more than this.
He was right about one thing. The night I tried to recapture old wants with Claudio, I’d been overwhelmed with desire for Vince. And I was lying in his rented bed thinking about Malaika, how she looked on that video, because that was exactly how I was feeling.
This was over. Was over before I ever made it to California. I’d mistaken the heat of a dead relationship for the warmth of real love.
Gerri’s hand slid down my right arm, eased down my leather jacket until her fingers made it to the stun gun. At least, I thought that was Gerri touching me. But Gerri was in front of me, going off on Claudio.
The hand belonged to Tia.
She yanked the stun gun from my loose grip. Watery eyes, snot running from her nose, lips pursed so damn tight. I wanted to stop, drop, and roll before she sent all of that electricity through my body, but she rushed by me and thrust the fifteen-dollar weapon deep into Claudio’s back. There was the loud static discharge. Claudio made a crowlike noise, cawed, and twisted. Agony was flowing through his body in ocean-size waves. He gagged, choked on his own saliva, all of that noise blending with the sounds of light applause from the comic’s closing routine.
She shocked him again.
Tia’s friend finally got enough wind to let out an animal-like scream. Claudio’s friends were leaping over seats, tripping over the rail, the men leaving the women behind, sisters squealing, jumping out of the way.
Tia did it again, sent another electrical discharge up his spine. His face twitched, convulsed, eyes were rolling into the back of his head. He struggled to get away from her, staggered toward me like a zombie. I pushed him off me. He bumbled back toward Tia. And homegirl extended that stun gun and sent another shock up his spine. Opened the rest of his nerves.
That was when I screamed.
Claudio’s bald head glistened—just that quick he had sprouted gallons of sweat. His mouth was wide open, but he was quiet, like he owned too much agony to create words. Looked like his muscles had locked up.
I tried, but I couldn’t breathe.
A faint voice said, “Help him . . .”
Someone else yelled, “Stop blocking the stage.”
“That what his ass gets.”
Claudio fell, slammed across a round table, sent wine and beer and shot glasses flying every which-a-way. He ricocheted to the ground, bounced and twisted, twitched, head bounced off the black and white tile.
Tia was frowning at me. Holding that stun gun and grimacing at me like I was the grinch who stole her Christmas. She came toward me.
Sounds faded. The world was getting darker. I was about to pass out. Told my legs to move, told myself to concentrate. Get control of my body and get away from that psycho flight attendant before she got to me.
Coldness made my teeth clatter. Tia’s thin lips moving so fast while she raised the stun gun. Pointed at me in a you’re-next kinda way. Couldn’t hear the words rushing from her tight lips. Everything muffled. Air too thick. Knees about to fold. Stun gun coming toward my body.
Darkness surrounded me.
28
Dana
A zillion lights flashed in my face. Buildings and billboards and homeless people went by me in a blur. My body was thawing out at thirty miles an hour. I was in the passenger seat of Gerri’s car. She was concentrating on traffic, whipping from lane to lane. I moved my tongue around the inside of my mouth, tried to add moisture to the dryness.
“What—what . . . Gerri, what happened?”
“Well, welcome back.”
“What happened?”
“I dragged you out of there.”
Yellow. I saw yellow lights behind us.
The stun gun was welded into my palm.
I asked, “How did I get this?”
“She gave it to you.”
“Gave it to me?”
“After she messed up Claudio, she sashayed right up to your face and put it back in your hands, bounced out of there with her head high in the sky, like she was leaving church on a Sunday after service.”
I dropped the damn thing to the floor.
“You think she killed him?”
“Can’t kill something that doesn’t have a heart.”
“I’m serious.”
“He was twitching like an epileptic when we ran out. He’ll recover.”
“Oh, God.”
I let my window down. Still couldn’t breathe. Was getting claustrophobic. Wanted to stick my head out and pant like an overheated puppy.
Gerri drove the side avenues, took the smutty streets by the Pantages Theatre and the Capitol Records building. In my passenger mirror, I saw those lemon-colored lights again. Two cars back. We turned. The yellow light turned too. We turned again. Those lights turned.
I said, “Somebody’s following us.”
“Nobody’s following us.”
Then the yellow lights vanished.
I relaxed into the soft leather seat. We ended up getting trapped at a light over on Gower at Franklin, across from the Roosevelt Hotel and the entrance to the 101 freeway.
Claudio’s words, every last insult was inside my head.
Gerri’s engine stopped; she took her keys out of the ignition.
I jumped. “Why you cut the car off ?”
“I want my Temprees CD out of the glove compartment.”
“How can you be in the mood for music?”
“When I’m stressed, I need my old school music.”
“Give me the keys. Make sure we’re not being followed.”
“Relax, if they’re after anybody, they’re after the other girl. They probably have an APB out on her breasts right now.”
“Not funny. How do I open this thing?”
“Is funny. Turn it left. Okay, then turn it right. She could’ve breast-fed Egypt with those things.”
“Your CD’s not in here. All I see are NAS and Q-Tip.”
“Jefferson must’ve stole my music. That pisses me off.”
Gerri sat back for a second and massaged her temples. Massaged like that was the main memory she had been trying to avoid.
A few thoughts passed before I asked, “You love Jefferson?”
“Enough for this to make my skin break out, and that’s too much.” Gerri finger-combed her hair. “So much money. What was I thinking? I’ve sunk too much money into that dream. I at least want to break even.”
“What happened with Butter?”
“Nothing yet. She started off talking crazy, but I put her in her place. Had to put my gun on the table.”
“You what?”
“She threatened me.”
“Damn.”
“Nobody threatens me. I’ve got that ragamuffin too scared to pee. I told the gold digger to get rid of that problem.”
That jarred me. “Told her or suggested it? Whose choice is it?”
“I already made her appointment for tomorrow.”
“What Butter say about the whole thing?”
“Don’t ask me about that anymore.”
I shifted my body, moved away from Gerri.
I asked, “You love Melvin?”
“Sometimes I want him back. Sometimes I don’t. I want to prove I can make it without him. But I want my kids to have a relationship with their daddy. They love him. He’s great with them. That’s attractive to me, in a different kind of way. A spiritual way, I guess. Surprised?”
I shook my head, used my hand to smooth out my hair. I understood her wanting and not wanting at the same time. I knew how dangerous and misguiding leftover love could be. I understood Gerri. Love ain’t never been a rational beast. And I understood my momma.
I should’ve been crying, but I chuckled. “You see the look on Claudio’s face when that wacko zapped his butt? Never seen anybody look that damn ugly.”
Gerri bounced around and imitated him.
We laughed. Laughed so hard that I had stopped watching my back. Vibrations from another bass system made it to us before the music did. A car rolled up the hill toward us. Cheap sound system, too much volume. It was a truck with the lemon-colored fog lights. It zoomed up on my side of the car. Before the truck stopped, a brother leaped out the back, landed flat-footed, and rushed toward my window. The truck jerked to a halt, and the driver hopped out and followed his friend into the broken light.
“Oh, shit.”
“Go, Gerri, go!”
“Where my keys?”
“In your hand! Go!”
Gerri fumbled the keys, dropped them on the floor.
Two young brothers ran into the thin light. Mustaches that hadn’t thickened with age. Sweaty faces filled with acne.
“Get out the car, bitches.” One of ’em pulled his shirt back, showed a gun sticking out from his checkered boxers. “I said, out the damn hoopty!”
I fumbled for the door.
Gerri screamed, “What are you doing?”
I yelled, “We’re getting jacked. Get out.”
“Hell, no. I’m not giving up my ride.”
I tried to duck down in my seat. “Then drive!”
One of the thugs grabbed my door handle. The door opened. Interior light popped on. Sensor dinged. The boy grabbed my shoulder.
I thought about Vince. Wished I could get him a message, tell him my last words. It was strange that that desire came when the Grim Reaper had pried open my car door.
Gerri raised her right arm, brought her gun up, pointed the pistol right between his pretty brown thighs. She spoke as calm as a summer breeze: “Make my day, and it’ll be
hasta la adios
.”
“Damn.” He cha-cha’d a step backward. “My bag, my bag.”
Gerri snapped, “Idiot! It’s bad, not bag. Bad, as in wrong, as in mistake, as in error, like the one you just made.”
There were two pops and a scream. Quick pops from a small and cute black gun that rang as the bullets flew by my head, whizzed though my open window. The pops had come from Gerri’s gun. The scream came from me as I grabbed and covered her ears. The truck’s window exploded. The boys cursed, yelled, dove to the concrete. Gerri ran the red light, zoomed to the freeway entrance, passed two cars before the end of the on-ramp.
My heart was a mile in front of us, racing at its own pace, about to explode. As my ears cleared, I heard Gerri laughing. I was about to go off on her. Until I saw her tears.
“I’m having a messed-up week,” she said, then wiped her eyes.
Gerri had an anger, a darkness that made me forget about all the drama I’d gone through in the last hour. Her words were molten lava. “Jefferson’s stressing me. I’m hiding up under a ton of makeup at least twice a week, messing up my damn skin. I’m in love with an ex-husband I can’t stand. Kids won’t stop begging. And now fools on the streets too young to pop a nut are treating me like I ain’t nothing.”
“You didn’t have to shoot at them.”
“Should’ve shot their damn nuts off.”
“You’re crazy.”
“They tried to jack me and I’m crazy? They had a gun. For all you know, they would’ve had us somewhere butt naked—”
“They didn’t care about us.”
“Duh, hello. That was obvious. What clued you in?”
“You know what I mean. They wanted the car.”
“They didn’t want
the
car, they wanted
my
car. I make my living driving this car. I drive my kids to school in this car.”
“Your insurance would’ve paid you for another one.”
“No damn insurance.”
I said, “What?”
“You heard me.”
“No insurance?”
“Too many speeding tickets. Nobody’ll insure me without wanting to charge me an arm and a leg. And having a kid in my house old enough to drive ain’t no help. Even the people who advertise that they’ll insure anybody hung up on me.” Gerri wiped her eyes and let loose a bitter smile. “Always something. Always, always, always.”
“Stop sounding like a damn victim.”
“Get a grip,” she snapped, damn near exploded. “Dana, I’ve watched your self-defeating behavior for months. You can have anything you want, if you’d just stop getting in your own way. You’re your own worst enemy. You’re carrying luggage and trying to swim at the same time. That’s what your problem is.”
She’d insulted me without a thought. Her wide eyes said that she was terrified and trying to play it cool.
I said, “And your problem is that you’re attached to material things.”